Midnight Visitor
by SylvesterM
Summary: Minding his own business late one night, Freddie unexpectedly finds Sam in need of an ear to listen to her, which Freddie is happy to do. Add some ham flinging and a few revelations and you have one eventful night. Not the overdone victimized Sam plot. More along the lines of being second. Seddie. Post iSpeed Date. Rated T for some cursing and referencing a suggestive scenario.


**A/N: Hello there, good people of FF. So this takes place some time after iSpeed Date, no specific time frame per se, but it was before iSaved Your Life. It's my first time writing for this fandom in ****_years_****, so forgive me if they are OOC at times. I'm used to a different set of characters altogether, in a much different world. I shan't keep you waiting any longer. Enjoy, and R&R.**

"What color is the sky?!" The blonde's whisper shout played into his headset, and he couldn't help but chuckle fondly. Reaching for his root beer with one hand, he controlled his mouse with the other. He hovered his cursor over to the audio boost. He took a sip as he raised the boost to 25%. No doubt about it, Freddie had great equipment, be it video or audio, but picking up faint yet sharp voices was still a challenge, hence his need to edit the Wake Up Spencer clips that he and Sam filmed.

"Cheese!" Spencer's voice grunted in a way that made it seem like the answer was so obvious. Strange fellow he was.

"What's my mom's name?" It was his own voice that he heard this time. His eyes rolled habitually when he recalled Spencer's answer to his question. He was right though.

"Wacko Benson!" Spencer yelled. Freddie shook his head slightly. He also remembered Sam struggling to stop herself from bursting out laughing and waking Spencer up completely. It wasn't seen because she was behind the camera, with him, but she was covering her mouth. You could hear her mirth through her repeated snorts and heck, he could feel it with how she shook to contain it. It's not that he was all close to her willingly or anything, it's just that they had to be close together to fit in the small space next to Spencer's bed. That's what he told himself. It's what he told himself when he found Sam pressed against him and giggling at the silly ex-lawyer.

"You got that one spot on, cap'n!" Sam told him between stifled laughs. Freddie remembered glaring at her then, but he decided to hold his tongue. They never fought during these segments. It would almost be weird how civil they were when practicing and performing skits. It was actually sort of nice. It was moments like those he remembered that the blonde headed demon that caused him so much grief was really a good friend. He couldn't tell what made it any different from rehearsing for iCarly, where Sam assaulted him verbally and physically like she usually did. Was it because Carly would be there? Freddie snorted at the thought. Why would Carly's presence affect how Sam acted around him?

"I'm a captain? Where's... where's the private? He owes me chicken salad!" Spencer's brow furrowed in frustration as he spoke, and Freddie laughed out loud at that. He looked so distressed over his fictional chicken salad; it was nuts.

"You wanna know where he is, Spence?" It was Sam's voice this time, speaking with a tone that one would use on dogs. Freddie found himself shaking his head again, smiling at the madness of it all. To think it all started with both of them being unable to sleep at 3AM with nothing better to do. It was probably two or three years ago, Freddie figured. They did it weekly back then. It was every fortnight now. Sometimes monthly. Spencer was catching on. Sometimes he'd be more lucid than loopy, and they couldn't have that. Making it irregular maintained the quality. Freddie really did miss doing it weekly when he thought about it. It was fun, and he and Sam usually had midnight snacks after getting the job done. What more was there to ask for? Carly? Freddie snorted yet again at his train of thought. Not once did they take Carly with them on their Wake Up Spencer sessions. It wasn't that they didn't want her there... It was just some sort of unspoken covenant that it was sort of their thing.

"Woah." Freddie muttered to himself as he watched video-Spencer reply incoherently as expected. "Sam and I don't have a thing."

They had a... a weird frenemyship. Though Freddie had to seriously pause for a moment to think about it. Frenemies? Was that what they still were? After years of iCarly, was that it? Surely there was something more, after all, frenemies don't just humiliate each other in front of the whole world then proceed to kiss each other _just to get it over with_. They don't cut each other's sleeves and pants up then give up a six month luxury cruise just to _protect iCarly_, right?

"He's asleep, Spencer!" His own voice yapping at Spencer over the headset snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he and Sam were wrapping up the segment. Freddie never quite understood why it was that whenever he stayed up late to edit iCarly clips, his mind would start wandering far and wide, and more often than he cared to admit, his mind put Sam on the spotlight. It was like he kept trying to analyze their strange little relationship. Maybe overanalyzing it, even. Making up things that weren't even there until his annoying brain conjured it up.

Spencer flopped back onto his pillow, sound asleep. It made him wish he could fall asleep that easily. It's not that he had difficulty sleeping. He just struggled to get to sleep when his mind was busy, like any other teenager.

The camera turned to point at the duo, iCarly's co-host and technical producer. Freddie and Sam gave their parting remarks, the usual, "She's Sam!" "He's Freducini!"

Perhaps not so usual. It was always one variation of his name or another, occasionally calling him by his real nickname. Freddie had to chuckle when he saw himself casting a sideways glare at the blonde to his side, who just beamed at the camera.

Freddie paused the video just as they were about to repeat the name of the segment. A quick edit to put the "Wake Up Spencer!" graphic in and he was done with this clip. As his fingers closed in on his keyboard, he noticed something he hadn't several nights ago when they shot the footage.

In the video, Sam had her chin on his shoulder and she tilted her head to rest against his own. She was about to open her mouth to name the segment but it was noticeable how wide she smiled at the camera. Not to mention... the place wasn't that tight. They could have fit on camera and next to Spencer's bed if she moved a little to the side. Yet she didn't. She contently kept close to him and grinned like a hyena.

Freddie found a small smile spreading onto his lips as he stared at the screen. He couldn't quite gather how he didn't remember that. One would think being within a proximity such as that and living to tell the tale would be rather memorable. It was those little things, those little boundaries that were breached without either of them noticing. Those were the things that reminded him that they weren't just enemies forced to get along for the sake of Carly. They were more than that.

With a few taps, the graphic was set to play. Forwarding the video a few seconds more, he clicked around for a moment, setting it to fade out instead of stopping abruptly.

"And, we're clear." He groaned, stretching his limbs out as far as they could reach.

He smacked his lips slightly. It was a Friday night, so there wasn't much to do the next day. Sleeping early wasn't a total necessity, but he felt sleepy nonetheless. He idly rewinded the clip to check if the graphic played properly. That's what he told himself. He paused it when Sam's smile reached its widest. Of course he justified that's when the small graphic was about to show up.

Freddie couldn't get over it. He didn't notice the slight weight on his right shoulder, or her head resting against his own. How could he not have felt that? Was it more usual than he thought and so he didn't really take note of it? It made him wonder though... If he did feel it, would he have inched away from Sam? Why? Why not?

Freddie shook his head once again, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. He placed a hand on his laptop, about to close it when his stomach grumbled in discontent. Freddie sighed quietly. If he was lucky, his mother left something in the fridge that wasn't disgusting. Standing up and taking his headset off, Freddie quietly made his way out of his room and slowly made it to the kitchen. Last thing he needed was to wake his mother up. She'd have a panic attack and say he might trip and break his bottom in the dark or something.

Freddie opened the fridge and crouched down, scavenging through its contents. "C'mon, Mister Fridge. Don't let Freddie down."

"You talk to yourself now, nub?"

Freddie's head shot up with a start, banging into the top of the fridge, shaking its contents violently as he cursed. He grabbed a carrot from the bottom drawer and spun around, pointing the small orange vegetable at the intruder. It took Freddie all of two seconds to realize the intruder was none other than Sam.

"Ooh, a carrot. I surrender, you vicious animal!" She drawled sarcastically, raising her hands up in mock defeat. Sam took several bored steps towards the shocked boy, who was still unable to clearly process her sudden arrival. When he didn't put the carrot down, she grabbed his wrist and stepped in close, forcing it behind his back and pinning him against the refrigerator. She tortured him enough over the years to know just how much pressure to apply before he dropped the offending vegetable.

Freddie's breath hitched when Sam was mere inches from his face. She just stared, not saying anything. Freddie struggled to form a proper sentence in his head, but failed time and time again. He couldn't tell whether it was the hint of sweetness in Sam's hair or the fact that Sam could do many things, little to none of them good, in the compromising position she put him in, that made him feel lightheaded for a moment. He found his tongue, just barely.

"Sam, how-why- what are-" The bewildered teenager went on, attempting to ask her about her arrival but was still ultimately unable. There were just too many questions to ask. He must have hit his head too hard.

Sam kept her eyes locked onto his. It annoyed her how she had to look up at him when she glared. It wasn't the same.

Taking pity on the confused Freddie, Sam let go of his arm. She then grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to give herself access to the fridge. She silently rummaged through it, probably looking for meat.

Freddie took the time to compose himself, straightening out his shirt and his PJ pants. It was then he realized he wore a Galaxy Wars shirt of all the nights Sam had to pay him a surprise visit. The pants were just plaid, so they weren't anything Sam could use to torment him. Or at least, he didn't think she could.

"Nice shirt by the way." Came the sarcastic voice. Freddie rolled his eyes, now more awake and aware of what was happening.

"What gives, Puckett? Why sneak in here at two in the morning? And the fact that I'm _not_ bleeding out on the ground right now means you're not here to have revenge on me for some stupid thing I don't even know I d-" Freddie was interrupted by Sam standing up and shoving a cookie into his mouth. His wide eyes darted back and forth and he grunted through the gluten-free dough. Sam found the ham he kept, as evidenced by the delicious smelling plate she walked away with. He was never a fan of ham until she came into his life. It sort of rubbed off on him. Sam disappeared around a corner as Freddie took the cookie out of his mouth and gulped down the barely chewed bits.

"Sam? Where are you going?" He had to whisper shout to avoid waking up his mother.

"I know where your room is, don't get your antibacterial underpants in a knot." Her hiss came from around the corner.

"My room?" Freddie asked himself. Without further delay he quickened his pace and rounded the corner to reach his door, to find it ajar, and Sam already sitting on his bed and munching away on the ham. Freddie cautiously closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Sam's eyes were glued to his bed sheets which were, thankfully, not Galaxy Wars at the moment. One less thing she could insult him over, he supposed. The rest of his room though... Freddie just found hope in the fact that she hadn't started making fun of the various posters and figurines yet.

"So... what's the deal, Sam?" He asked again, hoping she'd actually reply this time. She still didn't. She was looking at his laptop, which was at full screen. Of course, on his laptop was a freeze frame of Sam and himself grinning at the camera, with Sam comfortably leaning on the dork. He felt his face heating up when he realized that it must have looked like his wallpaper.

Freddie took several awkward steps to his laptop to close it, eliminating the only source of artificial light in the room and catching Sam's eye as he did. She let out a huff of air that sounded like a cross between a scoff and an airy chuckle. He wasn't quite sure which would have made him more comfortable.

He sat down on his computer chair and leaned back, crossing his legs as he did so, watching Sam chew on the ham in silence. All that could be heard was the sound of her chewing.

It was only now that Freddie actually got a good look at Sam. Her hair was messy, not styled the way it usually was. Her clothing looked just a little too ruffled for it to be normal. Her- was that make up? Freddie squinted slightly to see Sam. It was difficult, considering the only source of light was the moon, through his window. Not to mention his window had curtains so there was barely any light passing through anyway. Her lipstick was smeared ever so slightly. Since when did Sam wear lipstick? Freddie's frown deepened when he saw how her hands just barely trembled as she scooped the pork into her mouth.

He didn't like this in the least. Her body language was off and the air was heavy. You could cut the tension with a dull knife. He shuffled about in his chair for a while, hoping she would break the silence soon. He wasn't used to this anymore. When silence would befall the two of them, it was usually comfortable and rather nice. This was making him nervous. He was almost praying she would start insulting his hair or his room or anything at all. Anything would be better than the dead air.

For lack of anything better to do, Freddie munched on the cookie he almost forgot he was holding; the cookie he was force fed to keep quiet. No wonder Sam didn't eat it. It didn't taste horrible but... weird. Sugar free, gluten-free cookies usually did. He hardly noticed the taste the first time, considering it was shoved into his mouth without consent.

"I don't really know why I came to you. I'm not your perfect little _Carly_. You hate me. Why would you care about anything I'm about to tell you?" Sam was staring straight ahead, distant. She refused to make eye contact with Freddie. He was baffled somewhat.

"Come on, Sam. I don't _hate_ you. I mean, yeah we _hate_ each other but... that never stopped us from being friends, weird as it is, you know?" Freddie rubbed his hands together awkwardly. The blonde sitting at the foot of his bed still wouldn't so much as look at him.

"And I know. I mean, I know you're not Carly. I never said you were. I never asked you to be her." That's when Sam's head snapped in Freddie's direction, her eyes narrowed into slits that glared at him. Freddie gulped visibly, unaware of where he went wrong.

"Yes. You have." She growled. "Maybe you never said those exact words, but of course; leave it to a dork like you to find ways to compare me to her, to make it sound like it would be better if I were more like her."

Freddie frowned for a moment and tried to think of any instance he really did just that. If there were any, they were vague, and he struggled to sort them out. At the most, he probably told her she should be more ladylike like Carly, or something. That was probably years and years ago, too.

"Sam..." Freddie put his face in his hands for a moment and sighed, knowing he couldn't win this conversation. "Whatever it is I said, whenever I said it, I'm sorry, okay? It was very nubbish of me to make that comparison."

Sam's expression was a mix of one that was thankful, but at the same time annoyed. How she was able to produce such a combination of emotions was beyond Freddie. After observing her for a moment, Freddie continued.

"All I wanted to say was that I care too. You may make my life miserable and everything but like I said before: it would be weird if you didn't do that. So yeah. I do care, pranks and insults aside."

"Haven't insulted you enough, I see." Freddie's initial reaction was to cast her a glare, but when he saw that she cracked her first smile the whole night, despite how small it was, he felt the pang of irritation dissolve as quickly as it had come. He found himself smiling back and relaxing into his chair more easily.

"So will you finally tell me what brings you to _Casa de Freddo_ at this time?" 'And not over to Carly's,' was what Freddie was unable to add in afterthought. He stretched his arms wide, motioning to his room. He saw her roll her eyes but chuckle quietly nonetheless. At least she was lightening up.

"Remember Pete?"

"Yeah, you practiced on me for your date with him ages ago. Then you tried to dislocate my shoulder." Freddie added the last part with a hint of false irritation, hoping to get her to crack a smile. It didn't work though. She was stoic yet again, looking straight ahead.

"Remember the stupid Ladies' Choice Dance thing?" Freddie's frown returned and he had to raise an eyebrow at her questioningly, unable to see how Pete was related to this. To reply, Freddie just hummed in affirmation, and moved his hand slightly to urge her to go on.

"I dunno if I ever told you in detail, and I'm not sure if I really want to, but to sum it up... Gibby, the shirtless little turd, turned me down because he had a girlfriend." Freddie's eyes widened in response, unable to picture it. "So I didn't bother going to the stupid dance. It's not that I really wanted to go to it but I just hated that feeling. I thought I could cheer myself up but..."

Sam stole a glance at Freddie and clearly hesitated to continue. When she didn't continue to speak in the next half minute, Freddie rolled his chair closer to Sam, concern evident on his features. He kept himself three feet away from her, just in case she got kicky. It was a habitual precaution he'd been taking ever since the first time she entered his room.

"But what, S-" Sam cut him off with a failed kick in his direction, and Freddie was glad he kept his distance as his hands went up to cover his face, just in case she reached further. Peeking through his fingers, he could just barely see her face illuminated by the moonlight. There was a mix of emotions on her face that he couldn't quite place. Anger. Frustration. And something else. Hurt?

Whatever it was, it triggered a strange rumble in Freddie's gut, and for a moment, he swore to himself that he didn't want to see that look cross her face ever again. It felt so wrong and unnatural. Not Sam like.

"But then I saw my two best friends doing just _fine_ without me, dancing all happy like in the Groovy Smoothie!" Sam hissed. That's all it took for Freddie's blood to run cold, as he stared at her with wide eyes. Only he, Carly, and T-Bo knew about that. But-

"So I just left. Didn't wanna ruin your perfect little night with your perfect little Carly." Sam practically spat the words out. Freddie opened his mouth to reply but was unable to procure a sound at first. He had absolutely no idea that dance would have had such an impact on Sam.

"I didn't see you come in." Freddie blurted. Sam rolled her eyes in response and attempted to reach him with a kick but failed once again.

"Of course you didn't! You were too busy with your perfect Carly dance that you probably dreamt of for years." Sam gritted her teeth, obviously having no time for Freddie's nonsensical statements. "Besides..."

"I would've just been a stupid rash to you guys. Irritating and not leaving." She returned to her ham after this, seeming like she was done talking. But she couldn't be. This still hardly made sense. What did Pete have to do with this? Why did she just show up to complain about it? Why didn't she go to Carly's?

Freddie really felt for her though, and it probably showed on his face, because when Sam glanced at the boy before her, she rolled her eyes. She didn't like pity and she never would, Freddie knew. He also knew that convincing Sam that it was actual compassion and sympathy and not just pity that he had would be harder than moving mountains. But if he didn't try, then what kind of friend was he?

"Sa-" The piece of meat hit him in the face so fast he hardly had time to register its approach. Freddie groaned, the sticky ham slowly sliding off his face and onto his lap. "Oh, Sam."

He picked the ham up and gave her a questioning look. "What was that for?"

"For being a dork." She growled. When Freddie didn't move or reply, she added, "Well give it back!"

Rolling his eyes, he tossed the piece of meat back to Sam, who simply had to lean back and open her mouth. She caught it effortlessly and proceeded to chew. Some things never changed no matter how upset she was, it seemed.

"Sam, just to reiterate, I care. But I don't understand why you'd pick me, the _technical weenie_ as you put it, over Carly to tell this to. And don't be silly. If you said hi at the Smoothie, you wouldn't have ruined anything... It was no big deal. I mean, it was _just_ a dance." He didn't realize he was beginning to ramble, wiping the sauce from his face as he spoke. "It's not like we became a couple or anything. It was just a dance. Between friends. A friendly dance between friends. That you could have walked in on and interrupted just fine. I mean, if it makes you feel better, I would have d-"

"Oh, shut it, Benson." Sam's exasperated voice cut him off. "I didn't tell Carly because she wouldn't get me."

When Freddie looked at her questioningly, as if to say, "And you think I would?" Sam preempted the verbalization of the question, "You of all people should understand me. After all, Carly's rejected you a hundred times and counting. But Carly..."

Freddie rolled his eyes for the nth time that night. He was starting to get it the more he thought about it though. It was more than just being rejected by Gibby. It was her self-worth.

"Carly has it so easy. Hundreds of guys line up for her and how many do I get?" Sam looked at Freddie, daring him to answer the rhetorical question to start a fight. He had no intention of doing so.

"None. Always second best. Always falling short." Sam lay down on the bed, arms spread out, the nearly empty plate resting on her belly. "I'm just tired of it, Fredward. She probably wouldn't believe me if I told her all this. Does Carly constantly deal with rejection? Does Carly get left out? Does she get pushed aside because there's someone better? Don't get me wrong, I love Carls and all, it's just... she wouldn't get me."

Freddie's stomach was at it again, and he felt the need to console her. She was trying to keep up the tough image, no doubt about it. She was doing a good job too. The thing was that after years of her voice causing him emotional pain, he knew it by heart. That's why he noticed the tiniest waver in her voice as she spoke. After years of her staring him down to intimidate him, he knew her eyes by heart. That's why he could see the gut wrenching sadness hidden in them.

Freddie slowly stood up and approached Sam, intending to sit next to her.

"Sam, I t-" Freddie stopped dead in his tracks when Sam lifted her foot up threateningly, aiming it at his face. Sure, he might lose a tooth if she cocked back and kicked. Sure, he might lose another if he sat down after that. Sure, the commotion might wake his mother up and cause an unnecessary shouting match. But Freddie wasn't going to have any of that. He knew the risk of what he was about to do, and part of him was telling him to just sit back down on his chair, while the other told him to sit next to her.

Freddie gently held onto her foot with his right hand, causing Sam to stop staring at the ceiling to look at him with a bored, blank expression. The thought to try and tickle her and lighten the mood came into mind, and he immediately yelled at the inner voice that told him to do so. The fact that she hadn't kicked him yet was a good sign, and... tickling Sam Puckett was just going to increase the likelihood of that happening. Sam's expression began turning into one that said he was weird, considering he was turning red and staring at her foot for a good while as he held it. Awkwardly, he moved past her foot while releasing it, and sat down to her side. Sam's leg limply fell back down to dangle off his bed, audibly sighing as she did.

"Puckett, I-" As Freddie's hand was about to close around her knee as a humble sign of support, Sam stopped him yet again, "Dude." It was like he couldn't finish a single sentence that night.

"I don't want to hear the "it gets better" talk, okay? Because you don't know that. It's like encouraging you to pine after Carly since, you know, she'll never love you." He shook his head silently at that. "I don't need that bullshit right now."

Freddie rubbed his hands together for a moment, his eyes glued to the ground. Sam rather effectively shut him up. But of course, he was stubborn and wouldn't give up too easily. He took a more cautious path. "What _do_ you need right now?"

It was Sam's turn to be silent as she pondered over her succeeding words. What she said caused Freddie's heart to skip a beat. "A dork that'll listen and understand."

"Sometimes, you just gotta let everything out and I sort of need that right now. You can save your little encouragement speeches for later if you think they're that important." Taking the plate and placing it on her lap, Sam sat up, and Freddie belatedly realized how little space there was between them. If Sam noticed, she paid it no mind.

"So... Pete." Sam began, but found herself unable to continue right after.

"Pete." Freddie echoed.

"As you know, we never really became... an _item_. We went out a few times, and he seemed to really like me for me and not some daffodil. Pete and I never really clicked. At first I thought we did but after a while, the texts got less frequent, we met up less, and you know how it goes." Sam kept looking straight ahead. She didn't want to give Freddie the chance to look into her eyes and into her soul like only he could with those damned piercing brown eyes she hated so much.

"We met up again. A few weeks ago. Before you ask," Sam heard Freddie's intake of air in preparation to speak and beat him to it. "I didn't tell you or Carly about it. I didn't tell you guys because I didn't know where our _relationship_ was going. It wasn't going anywhere good, I'm telling you."

There was the tiniest fluctuation in her tone as she spoke, and it was more noticeable than the last. Freddie, without thinking, placed a hand on Sam's knee once again, causing her to tense up. When he squeezed in reassurance, she visibly let out a shaky breath of air she hardly knew she was holding. She relaxed slightly and nodded to herself, clearly finding no joy in the story she was telling.

"I don't want to drag this out longer than it has to, so I'll just say it. He was just being nice to me the past few weeks because he wanted in on my pants. When he first said he wanted to get together again, I thought- I thought he actually might have seriously liked me. It was just a big ol' slap of false hope. It was stupid to think a guy might have finally liked me. Turns out it was only physical," Sam seemed to try and lighten the room up. "He just wanted a cut of mama's cake."

Sam laughed at her own statement for a moment before growing silent. "Asshole."

Freddie grunted softly as his hand went up to rub the back of his neck. He didn't know how Sam felt, of course. He did, however, sympathize with her greatly, and his heart bled for her, and his anger called for blood. Not wanting to sound too sappy, he said, "Please tell me you broke his thumbs and kicked him where guys shouldn't be kicked."

Sam let out an airy chuckle in response; it didn't last. She was straight faced in no time, and she fidgeted with the edges of the plate on her lap as she replied, "When Pete kept trying to be all unzippy and I kept saying no, it sort of sent the point across that he didn't care. All he wanted was this," Sam gestured to her body. "But yeah, I got back at him I guess. Pretty sure he won't be feeling his jaw anytime soon; he'll probably stay away from piers for a while too."

Freddie grinned at this and he patted her knee in amusement. "That's the Sam I know."

"Dork." Sam's monosyllabic reply was paired with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Is that why you look all frazzled though?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Who says _frazzled_?" Sam turned to him and slugged him in the shoulder, not enough to bruise, but enough for him to inhale sharply and rub his sore limb.

"Well that was rude." Was all Freddie could let out in reply.

"Yeah, what's new?" Sam rolled her eyes before returning to Freddie's question. "But yeah, that's why I look _frazzled_. We were on his uncle's boat and it was docked by the pier. We were making out and stuff and when he started pushing it, I punched him. I guess I hit him hard because he sort of stumbled overboard. Home was a ways off compared to here and I wasn't really in the mood to be picked on by the freaks of the night so I decided to head to Bushwell. Then here we are."

"I hate it. Just when I think someone comes along and likes me, he just likes my body." Sam rubbed her face in frustration. "I guess it's a one up over Carly when you think about it but... it's not a very big thing to be proud of. _"Hey there's this guy that pretended to like me for me because he wanted to screw me and not you!"_ It doesn't sound so great."

"Sam..." Freddie soothingly rubbed circles around her knee. "For what it's worth, I think he's a total skunk bag. Losing you the way things went down, he's a big idiot. His loss. Guy must have been pretty blind to just see, well, _you_. I mean," Unbeknownst to Freddie, he began rambling again, and Sam felt herself smiling ever so slightly. "There's more to you that meets the eye. Sure you're violent and enjoy causing other people pain, but you have a nice side too! When you aren't trying to yank my arm out or force feed me gluten-free cookies, I genuinely enjoy your company- like during those Wake Up Spencer bits we do! You're funny, and creative, and I-"

Sam's hand effectively covered Freddie's mouth, muffling his words. With her free hand, Sam grabbed Freddie's shoulder to pull him closer and whisper in his ear, "Shut up."

When he complied, Sam released him and the room grew quiet. Although it was still slightly awkward, it wasn't as bad as earlier, and for that, Freddie was grateful.

Freddie swore if he ever saw Pete in Ridgeway, he'd give him a piece of his mind. Hell, he'd beat him up if it weren't for the fact that Pete probably had guy friends to back him up. Sure, Freddie had Sam, but who'd say she would back him up. In any other circumstance, maybe. But not in that hypothetical situation. She wouldn't appreciate Freddie fighting her battles for her. If she wanted to beat him up further, she'd do it. She didn't need her dorky friend to try and pick a fight with him.

That angered Freddie. He couldn't do anything to help. Freddie's hands, on his own lap now, were balled into fists, and he had to breathe slowly and evenly to get rid of the bloodlust. Maybe that's how Sam felt, in a sense. Unable to do anything.

"You really mean that though?" Sam suddenly asked, bringing Freddie out of his thoughts. She was looking straight at him, and Freddie struggled to place her expression. The dim lighting wasn't helping. If anything, it made it harder to speak. He never really noticed it earlier when he was on his chair since she was against the light, but looking at her now with her head turned to him... The moonlight had its way of highlighting her features, accenting every little detail. From her deep blue eyes, to the curve of her cheeks, and to her soft lips that suddenly seemed so attractive. The ghostly glow that the night created caused him to lick his lips nervously. She was beautiful.

"Mean what?" Freddie asked lamely. It was too late when he realized, when Sam rolled her eyes, how stupid the question sounded.

"Everything, Fredweird."

"Yeah. I do. Any guy would have to be a complete nub to not see how awesome you really are. It'll take some time to get to know you and see through the pain and all but... I guess there's just a lot of nubs in the world if they pass by you to go straight for Ca-" Freddie was unable to finish the sentence, as he was on the floor and looking up at the ceiling in less than a second, groaning in pain.

"Look who's talking about passing me by and going straight for Carly." The venom in her voice made the boy fear for his life, paired with the fact that Sam was now pinning him down. It took a second to register that Sam may have just insinuated that he was in some way desirable enough to be compared to guys she liked that passed her by.

"You're just like the rest, Fredlumps. Who needs Sam when there's perfect, sweet, smart little Carly?" Freddie's expression shifted from fearing for his life to saddened for the blonde on top of him. It was at that moment he realized he was indeed a nub. He was, however, a nub that didn't want to be proven wrong. Before his brain waited for better judgment, he spoke.

"Well what if I like imperfect, mean, crazy _mama_ just the way she is? Maybe I don't think Carly's perfect, figurative and literal, girl next door thing is as appealing as I used to. Maybe I think your spontaneous, wild, insulting thing is something I shouldn't have overlooked and been scared of at first glance." It was only when Freddie put it into words right then and there that he realized what he said. And that he never realized what all he said was true.

"You're just saying that." Sam snarled. "Don't lie to me, Benson!"

"You _know_ me, Puckett. You know when I'm lying. Do you honestly thing I'd lie about something like that when you're clearly in the position to make me sorry?" Freddie ceased struggling against Sam's gripped and focused all his energy into staring Sam down, which was rather difficult, considering she was on top of him and his face was in imminent danger of being reshaped.

They stared at each other intently for quite a while, for how long, they could only guess. It was only when Sam removed herself from Freddie and sat back down on his bed that he could breathe easily. The brunette propped himself up on his shoulders to look at Sam, who was back to staring at the wall. He stood up and slowly made his way to Sam. When she didn't show any attempt to hurt him again, he eased himself into the spot next to her in silence, waiting for her to say something.

"Don't play with me, Fredward. I will break you if you do." Sam let out a murmur. One that Freddie just barely caught.

"I wouldn't consider it." Was all Freddie said. Truthfully, Freddie was just as confused as Sam was about what he said. He never really thought about it but now that he did, Sam was a pretty cool person when she wasn't hurting him. She was also quite beautiful. She was unpredictable and fun, and that's what made her exciting to be with, even if it often ended up at his expense. If that meant he like-liked her, he had no idea. An hour ago, the thought of it was almost ridiculous, now he wasn't quite sure. Moreover, what did Sam mean by that just now. Did she like him? For how long? The teenage brain was a very frustrating thing. He decided to try and at least voice his thoughts.

"Look, Sam. I don't know where that came from, but I know I meant it at least. I like you a lot. Maybe not in _that_ way, but..." Freddie shrugged helplessly. "Doesn't mean I never will... _or might already._" Freddie practically whispered the last part.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're a really cool person and I can't believe I never realized that. I'm a blind nub. It sucks that it took me this long to realize it but hey, better late than never, right?"

The last part had Sam punch Freddie's shoulder, causing him to wince and her to smile. Sam rubbed the spot she punched fondly, "Well, my sappy Dorkward, I have to say that means a lot."

Freddie smiled back, "So, now what?"

"If you're talking about our strange little feelings, I say we can settle that some other time. No need to force everything to happen overnight," Upon seeing Freddie's slightly crestfallen face, she added, "Don't be glum, nubby, I said some other time, not never speak of it again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but... It's best to take some time, y'know? Let nature run its course."

Freddie chuckled, motioning with his hand to allow Sam to continue, "But, if you're talking about right now, I could use some sleep."

He stood up right away, heading to his closet to retrieve blankets and an extra pillow. He opened the closet door but shut it immediately after. His damned Carly poster was still in there. That was the last thing Sam needed to see tonight. Awkwardly, Freddie opened the other closet door and stuck his arm shoulder deep into the closet to reach over and take the needed sleeping materials.

"What are you doing, Fredward?" Sam's puzzled voice reached his ears.

"You can take my bed, Sam. I'm just getting a blanket and a pillow; I'll crash on the couch." He replied, still digging through the closet and unable to see Sam's appreciative smile. Freddie only stopped when he felt something soft and slimy land on the back of his neck. His eyes widened and his free hand reached around to find-

"Ham? Seriously, Sam?!" Freddie removed himself from the closet to shake the piece of meat in her direction, causing her to giggle softly. Predicting Sam's next demand, he tossed the ham back to the meat slinging blonde, who caught it with ease. Freddie then let out a disgusted grunt and retrieved some tissue from his desk and began to wipe the back of his neck.

"I don't need to sleep here, Fredfoot. I can always crash at the Shay's; not like they aren't used to finding me asleep on their couch without telling them." Freddie's face heated up by just a little bit, and he was glad for the low light conditions. She would have definitely poked fun at his redness.

He didn't really think about Sam sleeping at the Shay's as usual. Why it didn't cross his mind, the boy could only guess.

Freddie tossed the balled up tissues into the trash bin under his desk before approaching Sam once again. "You sure you won't stay for the night?"

Sam waved a hand, "Yeah, no need to bug your nubbish little night any more than I gotta."

Freddie sighed. He supposed it was for the best. After all, his mother would have a cow if she found Sam of all people asleep in his bed and not him. Actually just having Sam in his house would probably make her freak out. Freddie stopped to think, staring ahead as he did. He wanted to say something before she left, he just didn't know how to say it. He opened his mouth several times, only to close it and gulp, still picking through his vocabulary to form proper sentences. Why was he so tongue tied? All he wanted to do was reiterate how great she was and how stupid guys were, including him, to not see that. It almost seemed like Sam understood though, because she spoke up.

"I know, Fredifer. I get it." She said, her tone a cross of exasperation and appreciation. For lack of better reply, he just closed the distance between them and hugged her, despite the fact she was sitting and he wasn't. To say Sam was tense would be a large understatement. Her cheek pressed against his chest and he rubbed her back slowly, making her ease up by a little. He heard the soft utterance of _dork_, causing him to break into a grin. Since Freddie couldn't quite express himself in words at the moment, he decided to express himself physically. In a move that surprised even Freddie himself, he bent down to press his lips against the top of her head, causing Sam to tense up once again. When Sam still wasn't returning the hold he had on her, he attempted to break the silence.

"You're gonna break my arm now, right?" The question, mumbled into her head and reminiscent of their first kiss, had Sam laughing softly as she placed her hands on Freddie's chest to push him away.

"No. But don't push your luck, Freddie." She stood up and gradually made her way to the door, Freddie following her as she walked. He almost didn't want to see her go just yet.

When her hand landed on the door knob, he found himself placing a hand over hers to stop her from leaving. When Sam turned her quizzical look to Freddie, he added with a smile, "I hate you."

She let out an airy chuckle and removed her hand from the knob. To Freddie's surprise, she wrapped her arms around Freddie's neck, her head buried in his chest once again. His hands automatically went to return the hug. It felt nice. It felt right.

"Thank you, Freddie. Glad to have a nub like you around." Came the voice muffled by his shirt, which made him grin all the more.

"Give Pete a shiner for me if you see him again." Freddie muttered into her ear, causing Sam to smile into his chest, one he didn't see.

When Sam tried to pull away, Freddie held on, his arms still bound around her waist. If someone told him hours ago that he'd be doing this, he'd think they were dangerously crazy. But in all fairness, restraining Sam by hugging her was dangerously crazy. "You sure you wanna sleep at Carly's?"

"I said," Sam pinched Freddie's arm, eliciting a girly yelp from the boy and causing his arms to retract. "Don't push your luck, Benson."

Freddie rubbed his arm fervently while Sam twisted the doorknob and eased the door open, her eyes returning to Freddie's. She took a few steps until she was outside the room and about to close it. For a moment, Sam leaned on the door frame and seemed to consider her next few words.

"I hate you too." With a wink, Sam closed the door and was on her way, leaving Freddie standing and staring at his door, a stupid grin plastered on his face. He had no idea what to do. He doubted he was going to be getting much sleep with his mind rushing.

He began to walk around idly, subconsciously making his way to his closet. He figured Sam was right. There wasn't any need to force anything overnight. Doing that may not end well at all. It's not like they confessed their undying love for each other anyway. He just... admitted she was someone date-worthy that he'd go out with and he just might like her a bit. And she sort of implied she might like him as well. Or he totally misread the whole playing with her thing. If she did have feelings for him, he supposed that would be another reason she reacted so violently to his dance with Carly.

Carly...

Rejection, rejection.

That dance. Freddie still couldn't believe he didn't see or hear Sam come in. He had to wonder though, had he seen Sam enter the Smoothie, what would he have done? He liked to think he would have broken the dance, but odds were, he wouldn't. He probably would have stared at Sam with his eyes wide open, expecting her to throw her handbag at him. Maybe if he saw the hurt on her face, he would have stopped for her sake.

He opened his closet to fix the blankets he messed up not five minutes ago. Of course, he was met with Carly's face. He stared at it long and hard, a million thoughts going through his head. Without knowing it, Freddie ran his fingers along the sides of the poster. It was poorly cropped. He printed it out ages ago, probably around the time they celebrated their first iCarly broadcast. The cropping was awkward because the real photo had Sam in it, right next to her. Naturally, little Freddie didn't want the blonde headed demon's face in his closet, so he took her out. It almost made him feel guilty the more he thought about it. He started to ponder what if it was Sam's face taped to the door instead, with her cheeky grin and her stunning blue eyes staring right at him. While the thought may have put a small smile on his face, he knew that it would be a life-threateningly stupid move. If he valued his health, he shouldn't even be thinking about it.

He began questioning the poster, if he even really had to have it up there. It was what caused him to slowly peel the tape off, corner by corner, until he held the glossy piece of Carly in his hand, his eyes locked onto that of the poster. He sighed heavily, licking his lips. "I don't need you anymore, Carly."

"I guess we'll always be friends and I'll love you for that, but..." Freddie steadily made his way to his desk. "I'm not blind anymore."

As Freddie slowly folded the poster up into a tiny square, he recalled Sam's comment about him talking to himself. Sam's weirdness was rubbing off on him, he reasoned with himself. With one foot, he stepped on the latch to open his trash bin. Not as reluctantly as he imagined himself to be, he allowed the small square of paper, now no bigger than an inch wide and long, to slip into the bin. He released the latch, breathing deeply, feeling like it wasn't just a poster with her face on it that he let go.

Slowly making his way to bed, he felt a smile creeping its way to his face for the nth time that night. His mind no longer ran all over the face; he felt at peace. So when he dropped onto his bed and pulled the blanket up, he didn't mind when the last thing he thought of before slipping into slumber was a certain blonde's playful parting wink.


End file.
